


Perchance

by NancyBrown



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Porn Battle, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He still dreams about the implants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perchance

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: implied non-con
> 
> written for Porn Battle 14, prompt(s):
> 
> Beverly Crusher/Jean-Luc Picard, voice, implants, dream, H/C

He still dreams about the implant, jutting out uncomfortably in the back of his head, dreams about hearing Beverly's thoughts inside his own. There is no one he's been so close to, so intimate with, as when their minds touched, cracking apart with secrets like chocolate eggs. They both dreamed that night, dreamed of limbs entwining sinuously by the fire, of mouths meeting while voices continued their murmurs pledging emotions they couldn't speak. He relives the dreams of her hands on him, knowing because he knows how best to stroke and lave and love him.

He still dreams about the other implants, crawling into his flesh like burrowing insects, dreams about hearing the thoughts of the Collective inside his head. The part of him that remained unique had never been so frightened, so bruised, so violated, as he'd fought not to crack apart. He dreams of the Borg, of their hands seizing him like machines, of being held down as his flesh was torn and his humanity stripped from him like gobbets of meat from a bone. He relives those long hours, as the Collective ate him from inside, knowing how to hurt him because it was him.

"Wake up, Jean-Luc," says a voice from far away, and he can't, he's held down and can't breathe, and warm lips cover his, yielding life with a gasp.

Beverly leans over him, hair tousled and face drawn into worry. He's come to know every single line on her mouth and forehead, and recognizes how many have been etched by him. He draws his thumb to trace one now, a short wrinkle by the left side of her lips. Beverly turns her head to kiss the thumb.

"Same dream?" she asks, without a question.

"Always."

She kisses him, offering her friendship and listening ear as well as her love. He takes both, greedy for the gift. She's ready for him, joining her body to his without preamble. Foreplay is for later, for when they make love properly, delighting in the too-long denied joy of one another. Now is for simple connection, him sliding home inside her like a prayer, like a dream that has no end.


End file.
